The End Always Comes
by Elina
Summary: So this is finally it, Danny.


  
  
A/N: Never written a SG-fic before, but I decided it was time for that too. This is just a little something I just started writing, free-assosiation, I guess, set WAY before you-know-what-episode. Be gentle with the reviews, I'm a viewer who hasn't seen the show in a long time (thanks to the networks, not to my habit of watching the show).  
Disclaimer: The TV-show Stargate: SG-1 belongs to... whoever it is that it belongs to, but lemme tell you, it ain't me. I'm not making any money out of this.  
  
  
**The End Always Comes**  
  
  
So you finally did it, Danny. You finally managed to do it after all these years of dodging bullets and arrows and god-knows-what on faraway planets. After all the times of being dead, thought dead, almost dead, or near death, this is finally it. Can't go escaping the big guy with the scythe forever, can you Danny-boy? The Grim Reaper always finds you in the end, and so this is finally it. So long and toodles, Space Monkey, see you on the other side when the day comes! I hope it's better there. I hope there's Heaven of some sorts, because if there _is_ such a place, I'm sure that's where you've gone to. I'm sure they reserved a lot of nice rocks for you to play with so you won't get bored.  
  
I'm sorry. Artifacts. Sorry... It just... slipped.   
  
Anyway, we all knew that one day the luck of the SG-1 would turn, that one day we'd lose one of us if not _every_ one of us. I guess somewhere deep within we were all just preparing ourselves for that day, so when it finally would come it wouldn't hit so hard. It did. It hit like a sledgehammer. Carter is a mess, even though she refuses to show it to anyone else but Teal'c and I. Teal'c is... Teal'c. He puts on his stonemask and doesn't even flinch, but I can see he's hurting too. He's been in his room a lot lately doing that kel'no'reeming thing. A lot. And I? I've been pissy, irritable, snappy, the Colonel. Mackenzie drops by my office a lot even if I don't want him to. And I sit here in your apartment, looking at the things that are just so _you_, and I... I --   
  
But, ya know, it _is_ funny. When you think of it. I mean, after all these years of being beaten up and shot at and abused in every single way imaginable by the Goa'uld, _how_ do you get yourseld killed? How exactly, Danny? By a _bunny_, that's how. A freaking furry, watery-eyed, cute little bunny. I mean, for crying out loud, how can you not see the irony? A man who's went to the fire of Hell and back, quite literally once, gets killed by a sweet, carrot-eating lump of furry meat. After all the bad guys we've come across, a little run-away pet kills you. Runs in front of your car in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a dark road in the middle of nowhere, on your way home after five peaceful days of looking at roc -- artifacts. That's irony if something is.  
  
The thing I can't understand is why the hell you had to go around being so goddamn humane and natureloving all the time. Couldn't you just once, _once_ in your life time have skipped the "all life forms have as much a right to live as we do" rant in your head and run over the goddamn creature? You hit it anyway, and it died, so all your efforts to save its life by driving off the road were a waste of time and energy. And your life.   
  
But then again, that's the way you are, that's who you are. Were. You were. I always seem to be forgetting that. See, I admired your quality to put others first instead of yourself, but, Jesus Christ, Joseph and Mary, this was way too much. _Way_ too much. It's not fair. I could live with a blast gun ripping your chest open 'cause at least then I'd know that it wasn't a complete waste, but this? This is just goddamn ridiculous. This is so ridiculous that it's not even funny anymore.  
  
It's so ridiculous that because of it I'm sitting on your couch and crying my eyes out like a freaking baby just because I noticed that you had left your coffee mug on the table the morning we went on the latest, your last, mission.  
  
God, Danny, I can't even to begin to line up the things I wish I would've said to you, not to mention the things I wish I hadn't said to you. I was a prick. I was horrible to you for the past months, for reasons even I didn't know, and I never got the chance to apologize. I've never met a stronger human being than you, more reliable, more trustworthy, and I never got the chance to tell you that. Or that I love you. You were my best friend, even when I treated you like shit, and I loved you for that. I still do.   
  
And I miss you like hell, we all do, even though we know that there's no point in it because this is finally it and there's absolutely not a fucking thing we could do.  
  
  



End file.
